Pulling a Peter Parker
by fufulupin
Summary: MAJOR BOOK 6 SPOILERS! A oneshot fluff masterpeice of RHr proportions. Yes, it actually is quite pathetic, but what else would you have me do after finishing HBP?


Disclaimer: HP is not mine. Nor is Spiderman, JKR, the Good Ship, or Book Six. Nope, nothing belongs to me. Aside from a considerable amount of wit and charm, of course. (Stop laughing, you lot of Muffins who may have stumbled in.)

A/N: If you have not as of yet read/finished The Half-Blood Prince, get out! Get out and do not return until you have finished the mastery and madness! If you have finished it…no, don't leave, come back! I wasn't yelling at you!

"He pulled a bloody Peter Parker on her!"

Ron Weasley was raging, pacing back and forth across his small room with his hands waving like brash tentacles in the air. Hermione Granger, his best friend and not-so-secret crush, lifted an eyebrow from the bed.

"I knew I should have kept you away from those Muggle comic books," she commented with a wry smile.

Ignoring her, Ron paced more furiously. "I can't believe that absolute _prat_. What the hell is he thinking? Being all bloody _noble_—is he mental? He is, he's completely nutters. We should have him checked into St. Mungo's right a-bloody-way!"

Hermione rubbed her eyes wearily and glanced at her watch. Ron had been at this particular rant—one that she'd grown quite familiar with over the past week—for a full forty-five minutes. Nowhere near his record of two hours, four minutes, and twelve seconds, she mused with an inward sigh.

And yet, during all of this raving and ranting and swearing and waving, he had failed to bring to light the one part of the previous school year that Hermione herself wished to focus on the most.

Herself.

Put more plainly, the relationship between herself and the swearing redhead before her.

Part of her knew this was somewhat selfish. Dumbledore _had_ just died, after all, and because of that death, their world was being plunged into an even-more-chaotic terror than before. Hermione hated herself for feeling so strongly, so fixated, on her own problems.

But for Merlin's sake, it had been _six_ _years_. Wasn't she at least entitled to _knowing_?

"I'm going to kill him when he comes, you realize," Ron was growling, clenching his fists at his sides. "I don't care that he's the bloody _Chosen One_, I'm going to tear his sodding _head_ off!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. He was, of course, referring to Harry Potter, their other best friend—and the one person in the world who could save them all. Harry Potter, who had been chosen to vanquish evil by almost a fluke as a baby. Harry Potter, who had witnessed Dumbledore's death—and, to be fair, more death previously than any sixteen year old should have to endure in a lifetime—only weeks ago. Harry Potter, who had refused to allow Ron and herself to accompany him to his "home" at Privet Drive because of whatever sense of "nobility", as Ron had put it, that had taken hold of him.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Had Just Dumped The Girl He Loved.

Harry Potter, the Boy Whom Ron Was Going To Kill For Hurting His Little Sister.

Hermione sighed again.

"Ron, _please_," she said, getting up from the bed. She was nursing a pounding headache and a rather hollow heart; all things considered, she wasn't sure she'd be able to stand much more of this.

"Please what?" he shot back. "I'm going to kill that git. He goes through all of the trouble to _catch _my innocent baby sister—and then he does this! He's…he clearly thinks he's Peter Parker!"

_Okay, that's twice he's made a Spiderman reference_, Hermione thought, half-amused, half-annoyed. She cast a sidelong glance at the pile of comics on Ron's beside table and shook her head. _Should I be worried?_

"He's not doing this on purpose, you know," she told him tiredly. "He just wants to keep her safe. In fact, it's _because _he loves her that he's doing it."

Ron threw his hands into the air. "Now _there_ is some right twisted logic! Tell that to the girl who has barely left her room in a week, why don't you!"

Hermione caught his arms, bringing them safely back to his sides before he could accidentally flail against her face. Taller and less gangly though Ron had become, he still did not possess a fully-functional grace.

Flames crept into his cheeks. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," she told him crisply, leading him over to sit. "And don't worry about Ginny, Ron, she can take care of herself. Believe me, she's not the type to sit around and mope about losses. I would be quite surprised, actually, if she wasn't formulating a plan right now to fix the very problem you can't seem to stop talking about."

This was clearly news to Ron, who blinked. "Fix? You mean…" A looking a shining amusement crossed his face. "She's going to hex him, isn't she? As soon as he arrives, she's going to—"

"Don't be stupid, Ron," Hermione snapped. "_Hex_ him? Why the bloody hell would she do that?"

The look of amazement on Ron's face grew, as it often did when she let loose with colorful language of any kind. Blushing slightly, she added, "Besides, you're being far too hard on Harry. This is killing him, and all you can focus on is his failure at boyfriendly duties. That's not very like you, you know."

Ron shrugged, embarrassed and uncomfortable. "I know. But…it's my _sister_, Hermione. My sister. The only one I've…she's all I have to protect. And part of me always knew, somehow, that I'd be protecting her from my best friend eventually…but I never thought of it this way, that this would all happen."

"None of us wanted to think of it this way," Hermione told him quietly. "Not even Dumbledore wanted to see it, did he? And that...that's why he's gone, Ron. By protecting himself, even subconsciously from the truth, from what was right in front of his eyes…well, he never saw Snape coming, did he?"

Ron dropped his head into his hands and did not comment. Hermione bit her lip.

"Besides, Ron, Ginny isn't the only one you've got to protect. You've…you've still got…" Blimey, this wasn't easy to get out. You'd think, Hermione told herself angrily, that after all they'd been through, after the last year especially and all that had so clearly gone on—

He was lifting his head, looking at her with puzzled eyes. She swallowed.

"You've still got me."

A slow beat passed, during which Hermione threw all caution to the wind and slipped her fingers into Ron's. Then she fixed her attention quite firmly on the opposite wall, determined not to look at him, not to see him laugh or, worse, pull away.

A long arm nervously found its way around her shoulders.  
Startled, Hermione looked up. Now it was Ron whose eyes were attached to the wall as if with a Permanent Sticking Charm. He was also blushing all the way to his ears; Hermione doubted very much that he'd be able to stay like this for long without combusting.

Moving gently (and slowly, so as not to press Ron into bursting into flames), she leaned into him. Nuzzling her head against his shoulder, she closed her eyes.

"What are you—"

"Shh," she warned. "I didn't sleep well last night and this is very comfortable."

There was heavy silence. Opening one eye, she looked imploringly up at him. "Is this all right for you?"

Looking somewhat strangled, Ron nodded. An expression of mixed terror and giddiness had erupted across his handsome face; Hermione hid an evil little smirk. If there was one thing she could make herself good at over time, it was making Ron feel awkward.

Not that he didn't have quite a similar affect on her.

Snuggling closer to him, she breathed in his scent (peppermint, she thought, mixed with butterbeer and the strangest scent of what she thought might be a Muggle window cleaner) and smiled. No, life was not going to be easy or fun for awhile—especially once Harry arrived, ready to take on Voldemort with a renewed sense of vengeance. Still, Hermione couldn't help, just for now, feeling perfectly content with her placement.

A/N: And Ron, to his credit, said not another word about Ginny for the remainder of the day. –amused expression- Hey, it was fluffy, it was useless, and it was random—it was also what comes from me reading the Sixth Book in less than twenty-four hours. Expect more one-shots as time goes on…I've found myself in a small niche of obsession (part HP, part renewed interest in BtVS…but I'll spare you crossovers if I can help myself). Review if you can, they always fill me with warm feelings of bunnies and chocolate.


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